


Time Enough to Heal

by Cyanocitta20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (or so he thinks), Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Leaves the Wizarding World, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-War, Pre-Slash, Severus Snape Lives, Slash, Squib Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanocitta20/pseuds/Cyanocitta20
Summary: At the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry discovers that he has lost his magic. Instead of telling anyone his suspicions, he chooses to leave the Wizarding World.Severus, upon hearing this news, realizes something is wrong. Looking after the Boy-Who-Lived has always been his job, and it seems to him that the job isn’t over yet.For once in their lives, the two have time enough to heal. And they will. Together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 58
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic, so I’m a little excited!  
> As of now, I don’t expect it to be very long, maybe 10K or so. But we’ll see where the story takes me.
> 
> On to the story then!

At the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves back in the Shrieking Shack once more. Having learned of their professor’s true role in the war through his memories, they had decided that he should, at the very least, be buried with the other heroes they had lost. He deserved to be acknowledged, for winning the war would have been impossible without him. So they returned to where they had last seen him, expecting to find a body.

And yet when they finally reached their destination, the trio found Severus Snape alive- barely breathing, yes, but alive nonetheless.

Deciding against moving the professor in his current state, they had immediately sent a patronus for Madam Pomfrey, who rushed in with all the potions needed in her hands and healing spells on her tongue. The fact that she didn’t even waste time questioning why they were trying to help _Snape_ , of all people, was a testament to her dedication to her job. Even so, his life was hanging by a thread for a long while and required constant attention.

Eventually, however, the Hogwarts mediwitch declared that he would recover from his wounds completely, although he was currently in a coma and would stay that way until his body healed enough for him to wake. However, the mediwitch could not say when exactly that would be.

“It could take weeks,” she said, “or it could take months. It’s really up to him now. All we can do is wait.”

* * *

Harry waved his newly repaired wand around, glaring at the feather on the table in front of him. _A swish, and a flick._

“ _Wingardium leviosa_ ,” he cast.

Nothing.

He frowned, trying again. “ _Wingardium leviosa!”_

Still, nothing happened.

Something was wrong with his magic, almost like... well, almost like it was gone. Disappeared. Like it had never even existed. There was really no other way to explain it. No matter what he tried, it would not answer to him. He couldn’t even make himself cast the simplest spells he knew of.

The first moment he had realized that something was off was during the final battle. He had cast an _expelliarmus_ to try and counter Voldemort’s _avada kedavra_ , but his magic had not responded. At the time, Harry had been preoccupied by Voldemort’s spell rebounding and killing him, for good this time. After that, everyone had been too busy caring for the injured, mourning for those they had lost, and celebrating the end of the war. Between all the chaos, he hadn’t had the time to dwell on how he had failed to cast the spell. But now, finally alone at Grimmauld Place, Harry’s thoughts became troubled. What was going on?

The only thing that had changed for him was the loss of Voldemort’s soul piece. He grimaced and shuddered, again, at the reminder. A human horcrux. Harry had opted not to tell anyone about it. Not only was the story much too complicated and horrifying, but he knew better than to mention that he had had a piece of Voldemort living within him all his life. Or to mention that he had died and somehow managed to return. It was simply not something that you could just tell people. Besides, if the wrong people found out… 

No, he would keep this a secret, even from his friends. It felt wrong, to keep something this important from the two people who had always stood by him, been unwaveringly loyal to him, but he did not wish to impose upon them any further. They had suffered so much for him, and no matter how many times they told him it was okay, Harry still felt guilty for everything they went through. This was one burden that he could bear on his own. This way, things would be much better. For everyone.

Moreover, if his suspicions about his magic were correct, he would be leaving the Wizarding World. Forever. He wouldn’t have any other choice. In fact, even if it weren’t for his current concerns, Harry still would have left, at least for a couple years. It was too much for him, being considered some sort of hero. The pressure of everyone's expectations was already weighing down on him, suffocating him. Ron and Hermione would have each other to hold on to. Surely they would be enough for each other? Harry sighed. Perhaps… perhaps this would finally give him the normal life he had always prayed for. 

The one problem with this plan was that Snape knew, perhaps not the entire story, but surely enough to guess. Once he heard about the horcruxes, it wouldn’t be difficult to put together the final puzzle piece and find out just why Harry had had to die. But Snape wasn’t the type of person to go about telling other people’s secrets, Harry figured. It was more likely that he’d stay silent. The man was free now, of all charges and previous obligations. Harry had thought he owed Snape that much, and had, quite publicly, defended him against those who wanted him incarcerated. He’d also made sure to keep the more private memories a secret, as they were not his to tell.

Anyway, if, _if_ Snape ever told anyone the truth, Harry would already be long gone. He wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath then.

Still... 

“ _Wingardium leviosa_ ,” he tried once more. The feather lay, unmoving, before him. 

He would miss having his magic. He would miss his friends. He would miss many others, as well. But he had only lived with all of it for about a third of his life, and he could learn to live without it again. He _had_ to. 

* * *

Severus couldn’t move. _Why_ couldn’t he move? And he ached all over. He thought back to the last memory he had.

He remembered a battle. The Dark Lord. And Harry Potter. A task left to him by Albus Dumbledore. And...oh, the snake, Nagini. He’d been bitten, he recalled. Then how was it that he was still breathing? He had been convinced that he would not survive the battle- in fact, part of him had rather hoped that would be the case. After all, what gave him the right to continue living when so many others had died because of his mistakes? _And yet,_ he thought wryly, _it seems I’ve somehow managed to live to see the end of the war._

The sound of other voices broke into his chain of thoughts.

“So how is he then? Do you think he might wake anytime soon?”

Potter. What was he doing here? Why? As a matter of fact, how was he still alive? Surely if the battle was over he wouldn’t be…

“I don’t know, Harry, that is up to him. He’s in a coma, I told you that. Would you like to see him?”

And that was Poppy. So he was in the Hogwarts infirmary, then. In a coma? Well, that explained why he couldn’t move, at least. 

“Yes, I.. I have things to say to him, whether he actually hears me or not. I need to say this before I leave.”

Leave? Was the battle still taking place, then?

“Alright Harry, I’ll go and give you some privacy.”

He heard footsteps walking away, and then someone, probably Potter, came and sat in the chair by his bed.

“Snape. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope so. This will likely be the only chance for me to say this.”

A moment of silence.

“I just wanted to say thank you, and that I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

That was the very last phrase Severus had expected to hear. He had expected to be cursed at for sending the boy to his death. Maybe for surviving when so many others had not. Or perhaps even some questions about his mother. Anything but an apology, and certainly not a _thank you._

“The battle is over. We won. And we couldn’t have done it without you. And... Thank you for the memories, as well. I didn’t tell anyone about them, if you’re wondering. No one knows exactly what happened in them, or what I… had to do. And I did do it, if you’re wondering. I came back, somehow. Anyway, no one else knows that part, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell them, either.”

So he had done it. He had died, and then he had _come back_. Severus would have laughed, if he could. Surely only Harry Potter would be able to pull a stunt like that. He supposed it made sense that Potter hadn’t told anyone. How do you tell someone that you actually died?

“It was nice to see my mother, you know. Even if it was only through your memories. I would have liked to know more about her. I suppose I never will, now.”

The boy was confusing him. The battle was over, they had won, so then why was he talking as though he was going to die soon? Severus tried to ask, tried to move his mouth and make a sound, any sound, but found himself unable to. Completely oblivious to his former professor’s attempts to speak, the boy-who-lived continued to prattle on.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’m going to make sure no one finds me. I can’t stay here anymore, Professor. It hasn’t even been that long since the battle but… it seems like everyone has this image of me, an image of who I _should_ be. Of someone I’m not. They’re all trying to dictate my life, and I can’t be that person anymore. I can’t. Or at least, that’s part of the reason I can’t stay. No one will see me again. _No matter how much I might want to see them_.”

The last sentence was said in a quiet whisper, as though it was something he hadn’t meant for Severus to hear. Rather alarmingly, Potter seemed to be sniffling now, actually crying. At this point, Severus decided it was a good thing he was paralyzed after all, because he would have no idea what to do with a crying Potter. It wasn’t like he was well-versed in the acts of comforting someone.

To hear that Potter was planning to hide away, now of all times, was perplexing, to say the least. And if the obnoxious sniffles coming from somewhere beside him was anything to go by, he did not truly seem to wish to go.

“I suppose everyone else will fill you in on the details when you wake up, but you’re completely cleared, sir. I made sure of that. I don’t know what you’ll do, but I hope you can finally do what you want.”

While Severus tried to process the idea of being _cleared_ , he heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and then Potter’s footsteps walking away from him. Before he left the infirmary, however, he spoke once more.

“And, um, you may never have been my favorite professor, but I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. For all of us. Thank you. Goodbye, Snape.”

And with those last words, Potter swept out of the room, unaware that his monologue had only left Severus with even more questions than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t understand why exactly Harry has lost his magic (or at least, why he believes so) it will be explained more clearly in later chapters, so just bear with me :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

It was many days later that Severus was finally able to get up and around, and by then the Savior of the Wizarding World was long gone. Just as he had stated, no one knew where he was. Not even his best friends. 

“He promised to contact us when he could. And made us promise, in return, not to search him out. We disagreed with him at first but... Harry needs this, sir. We know he does. To be honest, I’ve been expecting something like this to happen for a while. Until now it was only his sense of duty to us, to saving the world, that kept him with us. Now that the war is over, well, it’s really no surprise he doesn’t want to stay,” Granger told him when he questioned them about Potter’s whereabouts.

“If you would excuse me for being blunt, Professor, I know you don’t see him that way, but you need to understand that Harry has never wanted the fame that comes with his name. Despite what you may believe to be true about him, all Harry has ever wished for was to have a _normal_ life, and he would never have that here. And we know that, which is why we made the decision to let him go,” she continued.

Severus only gave her a curt nod to indicate that he had heard her. If he was being honest to himself, he had always known that Potter never enjoyed the publicity. Only a blind man could have missed the way he shied away from attention, or tried to hide his scar away with his hair, or did his best to blend in with the crowd. As a matter of fact, most of the insults Severus had spat at the boy during class were all quite untrue, but as a spy, he had had an image to keep up. He had never truly enjoyed antagonizing Potter, although there had certainly been moments when Severus had been infuriated by the boy’s actions. It was one of the reasons why he was trying to find where Potter might be. Severus felt that he had to apologize to him, as well as give him an explanation.

But Weasley and Granger did not need to know that. It would be difficult enough to make himself apologize to Potter. Not because he thought Potter didn’t deserve it, for he definitely did, but because apologizing wasn’t something that Severus was comfortable with. It felt like a weakness, a vulnerability, to admit that he had made mistakes. But Potter had managed to get over his animosity to apologize to him, and he could do the same. Moreover, it seemed that Severus had survived and was pardoned for his crimes thanks to the boy. An apology and thank you was the very least he could do for him.

Instead of mentioning his inner thoughts to the two in front of him, Severus asked for the details of the past year up to the final battle. These two had been with Potter for the entire ride, so with the exception of Potter himself, they would be the best ones to ask. They willingly obliged to his questioning, Granger leading the story with Weasley pitching in his two Knuts here and there.

By the end of it all, Severus did not know what to think. The full prophecy, Horcruxes, the Deathly Hallows. 

_And apparently,_ he added to himself, _a death and a revival._

It was a horrifying story, more like a fictional tale rather than an actual experience. Except that it _was_. Shaken, Severus dismissed his two visitors, taking some time to let it all sink in. 

As he lay in bed, pondering on what he had learned, his thoughts turned, once again, to Harry Potter. Hadn’t Albus said the boy had to die because…

Severus jerked upright, eyes widening in realization. Albus had said the boy had a part of Voldemort in him. A part of his _soul_ . _A horcrux. The boy had been a horcrux._

And Potter had _known_ that, when he walked straight to his death. 

Severus felt rather sickened. He could somewhat understand, now, Potter’s decision to depart the Wizarding World. No mind healer would be enough for him, after a trauma like that. What could possibly be said to someone who had, literally, been killed and revived?

However, Severus still had to find Potter. In fact, he now had even more reason to search for Potter than he’d had earlier that day. Before, Severus had only had a few loose ends to tie up with the boy, but now he also wanted answers. He wanted to know what, exactly, had taken place after he had offered his memories, and Potter was the only one who knew. Surely that wouldn’t be too much to ask. He only had to see him once, and it wasn’t like Severus was trying to bring him back. 

He would find Potter, Severus decided, against his wishes or not. After all, he wasn’t the boy’s friend and had no reason to bow to his requests of being left alone. He’d see Potter, say what he had to, ask a couple questions, and then they would never have to see each other again. 

It was with this plan in mind that Severus set out on a quest to look for Potter the next day. 

The only thing was... well, that Potter obviously didn’t want to be found. 

Severus searched for Harry Potter wherever he believed the boy could be. Close to his muggle home in Surrey, hidden within Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, even Spinner’s End, where Potter now knew his mother had grown up in. But there was no sign of him anywhere.

And this was an extreme annoyance to Severus. Even with the war over, with Potter far away from him, the boy somehow still found a way to frustrate him. 

There was nothing more he could do except wait, until someone, most likely Granger and Weasley, had some news. But Severus was no stranger to waiting, and he was someone who stuck to a decision once it was made. Since he had decided to find and talk to Potter, he was determined to do so. No matter how long it took, Severus would not forget.

* * *

Many months passed before Harry finally decided to contact Ron and Hermione. For a while he had wandered, unsure of what to do or where to go. Harry had never had the chance to do whatever he wanted, but now that he could, he felt unsure as to how to proceed. 

At the moment he was settled in a small house mostly away from other people, where he would be able to take a break from the rest of the world. Until he felt well enough to return to a muggle society, he would remain here. And he _was_ feeling a little better, though he figured it would be a long time before he could completely recover from the war. If his life felt a little dull, it was what he had wanted. 

Harry told his friends, via owl, that he was safe where he was, and content. That he did not want to be found, and if the two of them wanted to keep in contact with him they would have to promise never to try and search for where he now lived. Harry warned them that if he ever found traces of a tracking charm on the owl or the letters, he would turn away and no one would hear from him ever again.

Technically, without his magic, he no longer had any method of checking for tracking charms. He still had his wand with him, but by now it was more for show since he never used it. But Harry knew Ron and Hermione would keep their word- they would not betray him, not now of all times, and definitely not while they still believed Harry could and would check for any charms.

When Ron and Hermione answered back, both of them had expressed their relief to hear he was well and made promises not to look for him. Seeing their familiar writing after so long had been difficult for Harry, for it was while reading those letters that the fact that he would never see them again finally sunk in. 

Harry didn’t doubt, not even for a second, that they would continue owling him, forever. Even so, the idea of never seeing them in person, speaking to them and just being able to spend time in their presence was like a physical blow. The two of them had been his first friends, first _family_ , and he missed them beyond words. In a way, the letters made it even worse- like they were still there, still by his side, but just barely out of reach. Never again would Ron beat him in chess, and never again would he hear Hermione scold them for being stupid even as she hid a fond smile. Never would he be able to see them get married, and never could he become their children’s godfather.

And as he realized this, Harry finally broke down, crying for the first time since he had left. He cried for the loss of magic in his life, for the pain of missing his friends, for the rest of the life he could have had. The unfairness of it all was devastating, and he wondered, not for the first time, what he had done to deserve all that happened to him. Was it too much for him to wish for a simple, easy life surrounded by friends and family? He let his tears fall freely, for once, dreaming of a world that would never be his.

And once those tears dried up, he wrote them another letter back, pretending all was right in the world. 

* * *

Harry leaned back on his couch, settling down comfortably. He’d been pleasantly surprised when he got another owl today, because he had not yet replied to Ron and Hermione’s last letter. 

Sighing a little wistfully at the reminder of his friends, Harry opened the letter. Looking down, he was shocked to find neither Ron’s messy scrawl or Hermione’s neat handwriting, but the spidery script of his former professor. He rubbed his eyes, checking to make sure he had seen properly. It was still there. Confused, he skimmed through the letter.

* * *

Potter,

It has come to my attention that only you know the entire story of the final battle. Simply put, I’d like to schedule a meeting with you because I wish to hear your account of it. Please inform me of when you are available, and where you would prefer the meeting take place.

Although I still do not see _why_ you would leave your hordes of adoring fans behind, I am aware of the fact that you desire to cut ties with the magical world. You may rest assured that I have no interest in persuading you to return or any such nonsense. This meeting would be a one time occurrence, and I will not tell anyone where or when it happened.

In addition, if you must know, I did not mention your peculiar... _experiences_ to anyone, nor do I plan on doing so. It is not my story to tell.

I would appreciate it if we could get this over with, as soon as possible.

Severus Snape.

* * *

Harry blinked, rereading the letter to make sure he had understood. Snape, even in his letter, seemed as unpleasant as ever. Honestly, the man was the last person Harry would’ve expected to ask him to meet. Although, wanting to hear about the final battle _did_ make sense. Snape had given them the final piece of the puzzle, and then had been unconscious for most of the actual fighting, after all. Harry supposed he did owe Snape the tale, including all the gory details if he wanted them. Especially if he had kept Harry’s secrets for him.

But Harry was determined not to meet any witch or wizard again. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_. Not only did he want no one to find out that he no longer had his magic, but he didn’t want to be reminded of just what he was missing. Probably, one encounter with Snape without him figuring out Harry’s problem wouldn’t be that difficult. Watching casual spells being cast in front of him, however, would be painful. More than he could possibly explain. 

Yes, Harry would not be able to sit through such a meeting. Besides, recounting the tale was possible through letters, wasn’t it? In fact, Harry thought Snape might actually prefer that, since they both disliked- and that was putting it mildly- each other. With this in mind, Harry picked up a pen to write a response.

* * *

Professor Snape, 

I apologize, but I have no wish to return to the Wizarding World, and nor do I wish to see anyone from it. I left it for a reason, which is, if I’m being honest, none of your business, Professor.

But seeing as you knew to send me this owl, you’ve already asked Ron and Hermione. Which means you should, by now, have been informed of my reasons. I could not stay there any longer, not with how much everyone pushed me.

If you wish to ask me questions about the war, I would greatly prefer that you do so through letters like these. I promise I will answer truthfully and as detailed as you want, but I’d rather not meet in person. 

Also, if you are to continue contacting me I need you to promise not to go looking for where I am, just like Ron and Hermione. I wish to be left alone where I am.

Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry glanced at what he had written. His letter was a little rude, he realized, but it wasn’t like Snape’s letter had been exactly polite, so Harry decided it would do. Snape would probably expect no less from him anyway. Plus, reminding him of just how much he hated Harry might help in convincing Snape that a meeting between the two of them would be a disaster. He hoped the man wouldn’t insist on planning a meeting. This wouldn’t end very well if he did.

Hoping his somewhat peaceful life would not be disrupted by this event, Harry stood up. The owl that had brought Snape’s letter had not yet left, obviously waiting for a letter in response. Harry folded his letter, carefully giving it over. The owl glared at him and promptly snached it from his hand, flying off without so much as a final look.

 _Kind of like his owner_ , Harry thought, as he watched the bird grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought to write!  
> Although I did get sidetracked with another oneshot I’ll be finishing soon.
> 
> Honestly Severus is such a difficult character and I have trouble writing him. I actually still am not very happy with how I write him, but hopefully I will improve with time.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Severus hissed in annoyance. He had just received Potter’s reply to his letter, and it seemed that the boy had no thoughts of cooperating with him. It would be so much easier if they could just get this conversation out of the way. _One conversation._ That was all they needed to get through. If they did so, Severus would have all his questions answered, would offer some words of gratitude and some apologies, and be _done_ with it. 

And done with Potter, as well.

Taking deep breaths, Severus forced himself to calm down. He looked over the letter once more, taking in its content properly this time. 

Now that he was reading it with a slightly more clear mind, he realized something.

 _Odd_ , he thought _, that Potter is so determined and insistent on not seeing_ anyone _at all_. It wasn’t just _Severus_ he had a problem with meeting, it was _everyone._ And that revelation brought about a whole new perspective.

Severus was many things, but he was neither ignorant nor obtuse. Unlike others, he did not buy the idea that Potter had left _just_ because his “fame was too much.” Sure, his struggles with being a public figure most likely took up a part of his reasons. No doubt the attention now would be even worse than before, if he chose to stay. 

However, that was simply not reason enough for Potter to completely cut off even his two best friends. Potter, after all, was known for his loyalty and devotion to Granger and Weasley. They were three parts of a whole, a package deal. You could never see one without finding the other two close by. Therefore, the idea that Potter refused to meet even those two was extremely suspicious.

Initially, Severus hadn’t cared. What did it matter to him that Potter felt like he had to hide away? If everyone else believed his reasons, then so be it. Severus was not a nosy person, he did not care for Potter, and he most definitely hadn’t been about to get involved in something that he did not want to be a part of. 

Now, though… now he needed to know. He had become involved through his letter, whether he had wanted to or not.

There was more to the story, and Severus was convinced that it had to do with why the boy wished to be left alone. The fact that Potter chose to refuse him even a single encounter implied something more serious than Severus had expected. Something was definitely wrong. 

But what?

For a moment, Severus wondered if he really should bother getting further involved in this issue with Potter. After all, looking after him and keeping him alive was no longer Severus’s job. Why _couldn’t_ he just send a letter, like Potter had said? Surely, Severus did not have to care anymore what Potter did with his life. He had no more obligations toward him, _that_ had ended along with the war.

 _But,_ he sighed, _I’ve kept him safe this long. Surely I can do so for another few weeks?_

It wasn’t like Severus had any plans to do something else. He was somewhat at a loss as to what to do with the rest of his life. Severus had not expected to survive the war, and if he did, he had believed he would be put into Azkaban for being a Death Eater. He had some vague ideas, perhaps, as to what he wanted to do, but those dreams would be slow in coming. Either way, wasting a few weeks more on Potter wouldn’t harm him.

With that thought in mind, he wrote and sent a second letter.

* * *

Potter,

As I have stated in my previous letter, I would prefer to meet in person.

I have already told you I have no desire to interfere with your current lifestyle, and one meeting would suffice. Were we to communicate through letters, it would be a lot more time-consuming, and I cannot imagine that either of us would be particularly overjoyed at that prospect. 

For the sake of both of us, I expect you to reply with a date and location. 

It will not take long, and you needn't concern yourself with the notion that I may expose your current whereabouts. 

Severus Snape.

* * *

Potter’s reply reached Severus the next morning.

* * *

Professor Snape,

Do forgive me for being rude, sir, but I really would rather we talk through letters.

I understand where you are coming from, however I cannot and will not agree to your requests of a face-to-face conversation. I won’t be changing my mind on this.

That said, I thank you for keeping me alive all these years. I am grateful for your help, but I have my reasons for wanting my privacy, and I expect that you, of all people, would understand that feeling. 

Again, I _will_ answer truthfully to any question you have. That much I can promise.

Harry Potter.

* * *

So it seemed that the boy refused to listen. Severus honestly had expected this outcome, and he wasn’t at all surprised by the answer. That didn’t mean he was any less displeased. 

Although, the fact that Potter stated that he _couldn’t_ agree implied, just as Severus suspected, that the refusal wasn’t simply because he did not wish to. Doubtless, he was trying to hide something.

Well then, Severus had no choice but to find him. At this point, he was both infuriated and curious enough that he was determined to do so. 

Then how? 

He contemplated his options. Searching blindly would not work, for he had already tried that course. Aggravating Potter through repeated letters was tempting, but certainly not ideal. Neither was the prospect of asking vague questions for an indefinite amount of time until he could at least make an informed guess. A tracking charm was risky if Potter ended up finding traces.

But if he sent a letter and followed his owl...

He wrote a final note.

* * *

Potter,

Very well, it seems you leave me with no choice. 

I will see you shortly.

S.S.

* * *

A little short, but it would serve its purpose. Besides, Severus would already be there when Potter received it, so it really didn’t matter _what_ he wrote in it.

Having attached his note to the owl’s leg, he watched it fly away.

Before it was out of sight, Severus quickly transformed into his animagus form, a raven. It was not public information, for he was not registered, but it unfailingly came in handy when he needed a quick escape. Or in situations like these.

Unfolding his wings, Severus launched himself into the air, following his owl into the darkening night.

* * *

Harry sat with his back against a large boulder, looking up at the clear, moonlit sky. All was peaceful, quiet, except for the sound of waves, lapping at the sand. It was a kind of tranquility that Harry had never before experienced.

The stars were scattered all across the night sky, each one shining brilliantly down at him, and Harry let out a soft sigh, shifting into a comfortable position. As had become his habit, Harry instinctively looked for the brightest star. 

Sirius. The dog star. Seeing it always brought about mixed emotions for Harry, a weird feeling where he wished to both laugh and cry at the same time. He remembered being so excited to be with his godfather. They could have been a family, if they’d only been given the chance. Maybe, he would have told Sirius everything. It would have been nice to have someone else here with him.

If only Sirius was still… 

That wasn’t a train of thought he wanted to continue.

Harry wondered, not for the first time, if he had made the right choice in coming here. It wasn’t _bad_ , quite the opposite, really, but that didn’t change the fact that he was alone. The quietness soothed him and helped his recovery, but Harry still wished for some human contact, for someone to talk to about things. Having no one that he could confide in made him pretty lonely, and bottling everything within himself was difficult at times.

Still, he had already made his decision, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word.

Instead, Harry let his thoughts wander, thinking of nothing and everything, the past, the present, and the future, all at once. He lost himself in the contrast of the moonlight and shadows, in the slight sounds of the waves and the wind. Slowly, he nodded off, eyes closing and isolating himself from the rest of the world moving around him.

* * *

“Potter?”

Harry started awake, feeling disoriented. Blinking to focus his eyes, he noticed Snape’s owl was back.

Along with Snape, it seemed.

“ _Snape?_ How…” he stopped, taking a moment to process the idea that his former professor was now standing in front of him. When he finally understood what had happened, his bewildered expression turned to one of anger, his face reddening.

“What are you doing here, Snape?” he spat, not at all concerned about how rude he was being. After all, _Snape_ had been the one to intrude on his home when Harry had explicitly stated not to seek him out.

“Did you cast a tracking charm on the owl? I _know_ my friends specifically told you not to. But of course you did, because you don’t care what I say at all, do you? To think that I was stupid enough to try and trust that a _Slytherin_ would actually heed my requests for once. How utterly _Gryffindor_ of me,” Harry continued, letting out a bark of dry laughter.

“Potter-” Snape tried to intervene, but Harry was on a roll, fueled by his current anger and pent-up emotions.

“I wanted to be left _alone_ , for fuck’s sake! Haven’t I done enough? Suffered enough? All I want is to just live a normal life! But _Harry fucking Potter_ doesn’t even get that, does he? No, of course not. Merlin forbid I live happily, for once.”

“Potter!”

Harry turned to him sharply, a dark scowl on his face.

“What? You don’t get to just burst in here against my wishes! What, you didn’t think I’d brightly greet you and say ‘Hello, Snape! Nice to see you again! Let’s have a cup of tea and talk, shall we?’, did you?”

“I didn’t cast a tracking charm on the owl.” 

Harry stopped his tirade, processing Snape’s words. He glared distrustfully at the older man.

“Right. Let’s say I believe you. Then how, exactly, are you here?”

Snape seemed to contemplate the pros and cons of telling him. Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling even more suspicious. There was obviously something Snape wanted to hide. After a moment, the man hesitantly opened his mouth.

“I am an animagus. A raven, to be precise. This is rather confidential information.”

 _A raven animagus._ Unregistered, too, it seemed. That certainly explained things.

He’d followed his own owl then, had he? Harry had to admit that it was clever. It was something he had not anticipated at all, especially considering that neither Ron nor Hermione had animagus forms. Harry hadn’t expected anyone else to ever make a serious attempt to search for him. Even if he had, he thought that this was a method he could easily have overlooked.

The question was, why would Snape be _that_ determined to see him? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have expected Harry to ask about his way of reaching him, which meant the need overcame the risk of telling the truth. Harry just didn’t understand why Snape would feel that way when Harry had already promised him truthful answers to any questions.

“And you have decided to tell me this, why?” he asked, voicing his thoughts aloud.

“I have intruded on your privacy, it is only fair for you to know a secret of my own. It is also a promise that I will not tell others where you are, so long as you do the same with this information.”

Harry only blinked, this answer only serving to make him more confused. 

“But _why_ would you risk that secret in the first place? What is there to gain from coming here?”

Snape hesitated, again. His face went through multiple expressions, looking very much like he was having an inner war with himself. Harry waited, wondering what it was that Snape was having so much difficulty in saying. Finally, the man spoke.

“I believe I told you in my letters that I wish to hear everything from you, Potter. Also, I do believe you deserve both an apology and thanks from myself.”

“I _said_ you could ask through- wait. What?”

The man let out an audible sigh, obviously exasperated at having to repeat himself.

 _Well, it’s your fault for waking me up at this hour,_ the still sleepy part of Harry’s mind whispered. He ignored the voice for now, instead focusing his attention on the man in front of him.

“I apologize for how I treated you in the past, Potter. And I thank you for the pardon you’ve apparently gotten me.”

These words were said stiffly, formally, with the air of a man who did not want to say something but was given no choice. 

Even so… it was completely unexpected.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, staring at Snape. Wondering if he was still dreaming, he continued, “You… came all the way here to say _that_?”

As he spoke, Harry furrowed his brows, perplexed. Why was Snape even apologizing to him? It was _Harry_ who owed _Snape_ , not the other way around. If it weren’t for the man, his life would have ended a long time ago. He’d have had a premature death. Many times over.

“Indeed. I have treated you wrongly in the past, and although it was because of my precarious position in the war, it does not excuse my behavior.”

Snape seemed awkward, somehow, which was something Harry had never seen before. But it did comfort him a little to realize that he wasn’t the only one feeling incredibly awkward at the moment. Idly, he wondered if Snape had _ever_ apologized to anyone before.

It wouldn’t surprise him if this was the first. Snape’s apology was pretty much the worst one he’d ever received. 

Still, an apology was an apology, and really, Harry was more surprised that he’d even gotten one at all.

“I.. accept your apology, sir. It wasn’t necessary, but thank you, nonetheless. And since you’re already here, I’ll might as well tell you about the battle. You can ask a few questions if you have any. After that, though, I must request that you leave and forget about this place. Will that be enough?”

He received a curt nod.

“That would be acceptable.”

Feeling rather unsettled at the change of events, Harry gestured vaguely towards his door.

“Alright. Um, you can come in, sir. Tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only wish I could write and update more often. But I’ll make do with what I have to, I guess.  
> Also, did I say this was going to be about 10K? That was a lie. I don’t know how long this will be, but it’s becoming much longer than I planned.
> 
> Thank you for reading, again! (:


	4. Chapter 4

Soon the two were seated- albeit a little uncomfortably- in Harry’s living room with a warm cup of tea each. Harry shifted in his seat, wishing Snape would begin the conversation. Snape, however, only looked right back at him, his sharp gaze making Harry feel as though he was back in Potions class, being scolded for something he didn’t do.

Seeing as it was clear that he had to say something first, Harry decided to get straight to the point and immediately broached the main subject at hand. Snape wasn’t exactly the type of person to engage in pointless small talk with him, after all.

“So…,” he began awkwardly, “just how much did everyone tell you about the events before and during the battle? I’m sure you don’t need me to repeat what you already know, sir.”

Snape gave him a brief overview of the story he’d heard. Harry listened intently, rubbing his face with his hand once Snape was done. 

The man already knew nearly everything. So much so, that Harry had nothing more to explain about the time spent hunting for Horcruxes or the moment of Voldemort’s death at all. 

Which meant all that was left for him to talk about was the one bit before Tom Riddle’s demise, the very part that Harry had yet to tell anyone. He didn’t really look forward to recalling his memories of that night. First, though, he had to see if Snape already had an idea of what the truth was. Harry was fairly certain he did, for Snape wouldn’t have had any reason to mention “staying silent” about Harry’s secrets in his first letter otherwise.

“Honestly,” Harry stated, “there isn’t very much to add to that story. Ron and Hermione told you all that they are aware of. There’s only one part left for me to explain, and I think you know the basics of that, too. Am I right in assuming that you’ve guessed that there was one more horcrux?”

A nod.

“And you know _what_ the horcrux was, as well?”

Harry couldn’t _quite_ bring himself to say, outright, that the horcrux had been _him._ It would make it seem so _real_ , a truth, a fact that he couldn’t escape, no matter how much he tried to forget. He felt like even an _Obliviate_ wouldn’t be able to erase those memories from his mind.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, obviously noticing the unclear phrasing, although for once he did not make any snide comment at Harry’s blatant reluctance to state it plainly. In a typical Snape fashion, however, he also made no effort to be considerate and use vague words himself. Instead, he spoke bluntly and clearly, saying out loud what Harry had failed to vocalize.

“If you are referring to the fact that _you_ were the horcrux, then yes, Potter, I do know.”

Harry winced, hiding it the best he could. Hearing it aloud just made the truth so much _worse._ It made him feel… _tarnished,_ somehow, as though Voldemort’s evil and vile nature was a part of Harry, too. As though his soul might have been affected by Voldemort’s demolished one. 

Steeling his nerves, Harry gathered up the courage to go on with his explanation. He wouldn’t let Snape see how much this unsettled him. Harry spoke again, keeping his voice as calm and steady as possible.

“I thought you would, sir. Basically, Voldemort’s soul was already unstable when he came for me that Halloween night, and a part of it broke off and attached itself to me when he was defeated the first time.”

Harry involuntarily shivered a little, although it wasn’t as horrible as he had expected. He’d finally made himself say it, although perhaps a little indirectly. It was still progress, and maybe this meant he would get over his repulsion eventually.

That didn’t exactly make him feel any better about the situation _now_ , of course. Still, he ploughed on, detaching himself from his words and speaking as dryly and emotionlessly as he could, knowing the only way to end this conversation was by proceeding with his account of the battle.

“After I saw your memories- thank you for those of my mother, by the way- I realized what I was. I didn’t- couldn’t, really- tell anyone what was in those memories. So, without discussing anything with anyone, I left to find Voldemort, sneaking away using my cloak. Long story short, once I reached him, we dueled. Well, it was more like he just shot a spell at me, and I didn’t defend myself against him, but you get the idea. He immediately shot the killing curse at me and I…um, basically, I died. There’s really no other way to put it.

“This is where things get a little weird, Professor. Um, weirder than it already is, I mean. When I died, I woke up at a place that looked a lot like King’s Cross. Even weirder than that, I saw Professor Dumbledore again.”

At this point, Harry peeked up from where he was staring at his hands to see Snape’s reaction. He had a blank expression on his face, but it looked to be slightly more strained, forced, than usual- as though he was struggling to hold back his responses to Harry’s tale. Letting his gaze slide back down to his hands, Harry continued.

“It was there, with Professor Dumbledore, that I got the last of my questions answered. By killing me, Voldemort unknowingly got rid of the last horcrux and became mortal. The thing was, when Voldemort took my blood- you know, the ritual at the graveyard. When he did that, he also took my mother’s protection. Through its survival, it kept me from passing on.”

Harry clenched his eyes shut, remembering the ghostly form of his parents, Sirius, and Remus, and how they had stood by him in those last moments. He remembered what he’d seen through Snape’s memories, and he remembered the stories he’d heard from numerous others. Most of all, though, he remembered the one memory of his mother that was truly _his_ , the moment of her sacrifice.

“In the end, it was always my mother. She’s the one who defeated Voldemort. It was never me.”

He drew in a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly as he soothed his raging emotions. He forced himself to put on a little smile on his face, although it came out pained and the action felt just as unnatural as the story he’d just recounted.

“And that’s it. There really isn’t much to tell, sir.” 

Silence hung in the air, its thick presence dark and heavy as it fell upon the two men.

* * *

Severus stared. _Not much to tell_. That was an understatement if he had ever heard one. And Severus had heard a _lot_ of them.

Half of him wanted to end this conversation here, if only so that he could go and get over what he had heard. 

Yes, he had known the basic gist of what he would hear today. It did not mean he had been prepared for all the details.

 _Albus_. 

Severus no longer truly had any idea what to think of him. On one hand, Albus was still the one who’d accepted him, protected him, and helped him turn away from the dark. On the other, the former headmaster had made Severus _murder_ him. If that wasn’t enough, he’d made the boy in front of him face his own _death._ Albus had shaped and molded Potter into the perfect hero, the self-sacrificing martyr, the noble Gryffindor that Albus had wanted him to be. Potter might not entirely comprehend the extent of Albus’s manipulations, but Severus knew, with absolute certainty, that Albus had been grooming him his _whole_ _life_ to die at that last moment.

It had worked, flawlessly. Let no one ever doubt that Albus was a mastermind. 

It still made him sick.

But no matter how much he wished to, Severus knew that if he left now he would most likely never get the chance to freely question Potter again. Which meant that he had to ask _everything_. 

He was here for another reason, he could not afford to forget this. He was here to find out what the problem was with Potter, and why he refused to see people. Severus would not leave until that question was answered to his satisfaction. So he cleared his head, storing away his churning thoughts for later with the practiced ease of a master Occulemens and former spy.

“I still have some questions.”

“Ask away, sir.”

“ _Why are you here_?”

Potter frowned, confusion clouding his face. 

“Here? Well.. it’s one of the Potter estates, but it’s not overly fancy or too large for me to stay alone in… and I wanted somewhere to take a break? I’ll go somewhere else, after a few months. Muggle, of course.”

Severus inwardly sighed. Of course, it was too much to ask of Potter to expect him to comprehend the meaning behind Severus’s questions. The boy was utterly dense. That was one thing that never changed, then. He’d have to take a direct approach.

“No, not that. What are you doing _here_ , away from your friends and family?”

Severus focused his eyes on Potter, taking in every little change that occured in his expression and stance. He watched as Potter’s eyes became guarded, looking away as he shifted to sit up a bit straighter. 

“I…I thought you already knew, sir. The crowds were too much for me, I couldn’t-”

That was not what Severus had meant, and he _knew_ Potter realized this as well, if the stiff way he held himself was any indication. He wouldn’t be deterred that easily. Severus leaned forward, forcing Potter to meet his eyes once more as he proceeded with his interrogation.

“If that were the truth, you wouldn’t have isolated yourself so thoroughly from _everyone_. There is more to the story, is there not?”

Potter seemed alert now, speaking each word slowly and carefully. He also looked every bit like someone who desired nothing more than for Severus to disappear. 

“It was my choice, sir, and I don’t think it’s up to you to decide what is true and what isn’t.”

Severus let his mouth curl upwards just slightly, forming a little mocking smile.

“And yet, you’re not denying my assumption that there _is_ more. Now tell me, Potter, why did you run away?” 

He, of course, knew that the term “run away” would be taken as an insult, especially by the boy before him. 

Severus said it anyway.

By now, he was deliberately trying to make Potter angry so that he would blurt out whatever it was that he was hiding. Potter was impulsive, more so when he was emotional. As much as he disliked the brashness typical of Gryffindors, Severus was relying on this trait to get him some answers, for once.

“You have no idea what you are talking about. I believe it is time to end this meeting, sir,” Potter stated stiffly. He was clearly trying to keep calm and civil, but his anger was slowly winning out. Well then, it was time to unleash that fury.

“No, Potter. I’d like to know what it is that made you flee, made you act like a _coward_.” 

It was a risk, calling Potter a coward, and Severus knew it. It was a gamble he needed to make, however, and it seemed to have done the trick. Potter was obviously riled up now, shooting up from where he’d been seated. Severus had always been good at making Potter mad, and it looked like that skill was one he still possessed.

“I did not _run away,_ and I am no _coward,_ Snape! You know absolutely nothing. _Nothing_. You have no right to judge me for my choices. It’s not my fault my magic-”he cut off abruptly. 

His _magic?_ Severus voiced his question.

“Your magic?”

Potter froze. 

“Nothing. I was ranting, speaking nonsense, you know? People say anything when they’re mad. I didn’t mean what you’re implying, just that..” he trailed off, seeming to realize that his nervous blithering wasn’t doing him any good.

“ _Tell me._ ”

“It is not your concern. Please leave now, Professor. I believe I’ve answered all your questions about the war. I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, now it’s your turn. Go and forget what you’ve just heard. _Please_.” 

By the end of his sentence, Potter was practically begging him.

But Severus would not comply. He did not yet know what it was about Potter’s magic that was the problem, but he couldn’t leave after that admission. It was a dangerous and unusual thing, for a grown, healthy wizard’s magic to act up, although not unheard of. Combine that with Potter’s unique situation… it couldn’t possibly end well if left untreated.

“No, Potter. You _will_ tell me what the issue is. Unless you wish for your friends to conveniently find a letter informing them of where you are and that your magic is currently malfunctioning?”

Potter finally flopped back down onto his couch, defeated. Even so, he didn’t fail to send Severus a glare filled with dark promises. Severus merely glared right back at him, unimpressed. He waited for the coming confession.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what came next.

“I’m a squib.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! I’ve always wanted to try one of these, so forgive me for this :)  
> It was just too perfect an opportunity to pass up on.
> 
> Also, you finally get Harry’s theory about his magic in the next chapter! Thank you for the wait, although maybe some of you have already guessed it?
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter, and I hope everyone has a nice day!


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m a squib.”

Harry tried to sound nonchalant, tried to pretend he didn’t mind too much. It had already been months since his revelation, after all. He told himself that he should be mostly over this by now.

Harry didn’t really think he’d succeeded in being convincing, both to Snape and to himself.

A moment of silence passed, and Harry watched Snape think, imagining the gears turning in his mind as Harry’s words registered.

“Care to repeat yourself?” the man questioned slowly, as though he thought he had heard wrong. 

Harry sighed. He was saying a _lot_ of things he didn’t want to today.

“I’m a squib,” he repeated, emphasizing each word clearly.

Another silence fell, in which Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, regarding Harry with a thoughtful look on his face. His expression told Harry that he didn’t believe Harry’s words at all.

“...Explain, Potter,” was all Snape said when he finally responded.

“There’s nothing more to explain!” Harry cried, “I’m a squib, and I can’t perform magic. That’s it.”

Frustrated, Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair, wondering just how he’d gotten into this situation. He understood, of course, that his sudden confession would make no sense to Snape. If Harry had been told something like this by someone, he’d be disbelieving as well. Snape’s being distrustful wasn’t why Harry was annoyed.

The thing was, Harry had no desire to elaborate on this topic. It was his business, and his alone. He had come to terms with it. Or… at least, he _would_ come to terms with it, in the future. With some more time, he would get used to living life like a muggle.

 _Hopefully_ , whispered the small, pessimistic voice in his head. Harry fiercely squashed that thought down. There was no use in doubting himself, not now.

Anyway, he was perfectly fine. So, if only Snape would leave the issue be, leave _him_ be, that would be great.

Being Harry Potter, however, meant that he did not have any such luck.

“That is not an explanation, Potter. How can you possibly be a squib when you’ve performed magic your whole life?” Snape inquired.

Realizing that Snape would persist until he was offered a proper answer, Harry dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He had not asked for Snape to interfere. He did not want to discuss his problems, least of all this one. Harry had already answered all the other questions he had been asked, was it too much to ask to leave this last topic unaddressed?

He imagined for a second the scenario of forcing the man out. He itched for the chance to do so, even though he had no idea _how_ that would work without using magic.

Then again, with or without magic, that was probably not a good idea, considering the earlier threat of letting his friends know.

 _Would have been fun, though,_ Harry thought remorsefully. 

When he finally spoke again, without raising his head, his words came out muffled by his hands.

“... I think that was never me. My magic, it was always Voldemort’s.”

When nothing but more silence reached his ears instead of the outbreak he’d been waiting for, Harry peeked out cautiously from behind his fingers.

The sight he was met with was an interesting one, to say the least. Snape was looking back at him with such a look of utter befuddlement that Harry felt the sudden urge to burst into hysterical laughter. Or perhaps he had finally reached insanity, because there shouldn’t be anything laughable about this situation. 

And yet there was. Harry bit his lip, trying not to laugh, as Snape opened and closed his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure why he found this so funny, but Harry was sure no one had been able to make Snape _speechless_ before. A part of him felt weirdly proud to have succeeded in doing so.

Upon recalling just why Snape was bewildered, however, Harry sobered up quickly. He hastily began talking again, his words rushed as he tried to explain his logic. 

“Okay, okay. I understand that your opinions of my intelligence are most likely below ground level, and you might be thinking I’ve finally lost it. Maybe I have. But just listen for a minute, okay? You already know that I had a part of Voldemort’s soul in me, so is it really that far of a stretch to think my powers were tied to him as well? I mean, why not? He dies, I suddenly lose my magic. _It makes sense_.”

Having finally started telling someone- even if it was _Snape_ \- all the stress and struggles he’d been piling up within himself, all his thoughts poured out of Harry as though someone had broken a dam. His words flowed out of him, tripping over each other and trying to piece themselves into something comprehensible. 

“For example, I used to be able to speak parseltongue. _That_ obviously didn’t come from my ancestry, and more than that, it’s gone, too. The parseltongue has to have been from Voldemort’s soul piece, so my magic could have been from that as well, right? Also, I was a horcrux from when I was a year old toddler. A _year_. That’s many years before any accidental magic starts happening to a child. No one can prove that any of the magic I ever showed was really mine. 

“Now, as soon as I get rid of the soul, I cannot make myself cast even a simple _lumos_ . It’s obviously connected. My wand was also Voldemort’s brother wand, as you know. Possibly because we had similar- or _same-_ magic in us. It all points to the idea that I never truly had my own magic. I was probably either born a squib, or lost whatever magic I had to Voldemort. Either way, I am now definitely a squib. I cannot perform magic, and this is why I had to come away. Understand me now?”

Finally reaching the end of his rant, Harry turned back to Snape, chest heaving from all the talking he’d just done. Harry hadn’t talked to anyone in months, after all, and it had been a pretty long tirade.

He looked at Snape expectantly. _Surely_ , the man would see reason now. 

* * *

Clearly, Potter was out of his mind. A squib, who had only had magic because of the particle of someone else’s soul within him. 

Preposterous.

Just because they, as wizards, had magic in their lives did not mean that _anything_ was possible. The idea Potter had apparently concocted within his own mind was one of those absurd, impossible situations. Honestly, Severus knew that the boy wasn’t the brightest _lumos_ out there, but this was ridiculous.

“So according to yourself, Potter,” Severus drawled slowly, “you were born a squib. Voldemort’s soul shard just so happened to attach itself to you, and somehow all the magic you have ever shown was from that piece of Voldemort’s soul. Now that you have successfully disposed of it, you are, once again, a squib.”

“Yes.”

Potter looked like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. His momentary relieved expression evaporated, however, with Severus’s next words.

“Do you know how idiotic that sounds? Tell me, Potter, was Voldemort so powerful a man- if he can even be described as such- that a mere few percents of his soul would’ve been enough to give you as much magical power as a regular, fully trained wizard has?”

Potter looked taken aback for a second, before he slowly shook his head and opened his mouth, as if to give a verbal answer. Severus didn’t give him the chance to speak, deciding he did not wish to hear any meaningless excuses.

“Or are you secretly a seer, with the ability to foretell truths?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then _how_ is the tale you’ve just told me anything more than your own imagination? Are you so self-absorbed that everything you believe to be real is immediately the only truth?”

The boy did not reply, only glaring at Severus with narrowed eyes.

“Yes or no, Potter. It’s not that difficult of a question. Unless your answers to my questions are all positive, there is no possibility that you are a squib.”

“Well, then, you tell me why I can’t do any magic anymore! What other reason could there possibly be?”

“Are you _absolutely_ certain that you can’t? Try casting something,” Severus ordered. 

“My wand is upstairs, I don’t keep it with me anymore.”

Severus closed his eyes, praying for patience. A wizard _never_ went places without their wand, this was one of the first things one learned. It appeared that Potter had forgotten this. They would be addressing this issue as well, but now was not the time to start another argument.

Just because he didn’t want an outright argument didn’t mean he had to act nice, however.

“Then bring it down here, Potter. It’s _upstairs_ , not lost in an island a million miles away. From what I heard, it’s your _magic_ that’s gone, not your limbs.”

Potter grumbled at him, but complied and turned to walk up the stairs, seemingly muttering curses at him as he went.

A moment later he returned, coming back down to the living room with the holly wand that Severus was used to seeing.

Severus pointed at a small red pillow on the couch.

“Try to summon that pillow.”

“ _Accio,”_ Potter cast.

As Potter had said, his spell did nothing. The pillow lay where it was, unmoving. 

“ _Accio,_ ” Potter tried again. 

The pillow stubbornly did not move an inch.

_Interesting._

“Something else, then. A _Lumos.”_

“ _Lumos.”_

Again, nothing. 

Severus was tempted to make the boy keep trying, and see if there were any changes in the situation. He wanted to see if different spells might show a reaction, or perhaps if Potter was made more motivated to succeed, or… 

A million different possibilities ran through his head.

A look at Potter’s tired expression and another glance at the clock, however, told him that they wouldn’t get any further tonight. It was too late- or too early, considering that it was 3 a.m.- to keep going.

“Considering the time, I shall take my leave for now and let you rest. However, we will be continuing this… _discussion_ , tomorrow.”

“Good. You can leave and… wait. _We_?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, amused.

“We, Potter. Expect me at 6.”

With that, he apparated away, leaving Potter standing surprised in his living room.

* * *

Once Snape had- finally- left, Harry dropped onto his bed with a loud sigh. The conversation had been _nothing_ like he had expected, and he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Harry felt utterly drained by all the unexpected turns the night had brought him.

At the same time, he also felt lighter than he had in months. It was a relief to finally have someone in on his troubles, despite the fact that Harry hadn’t wanted to speak about it at the time. Hadn’t it been just minutes before Snape’s arrival that Harry had been thinking about wanting someone with him? Snape was not the first person he would have thought of talking to, in fact the Potions Master was probably last on the list, but it was a comfort all the same. 

Harry did wonder what it meant that Snape had managed to figure out there was something off about his situation when even his closest friends had not. It had taken Snape only two letters to know that Harry was not alright.

Possibly because the man had more information to begin with, Harry decided. He would not doubt his friends and their loyalty. _He_ was the guilty one in their friendship for keeping these secrets, not Ron and Hermione.

It was still curious that Snape cared enough to find him, though. Harry would have thought the man wouldn’t want to be bothered with him anymore. And yet there he had been, appearing at Harry’s door to try and help him- again, even though it was no longer necessary.

Idly, he wondered exactly _why_ Snape had chosen to come. Could there be other reasons for Snape’s actions? Harry didn’t think Snape was acting solely out of the kindness of his heart. 

Maybe he, like Harry, didn’t know what to do from here, now that the war was over. Both their lives had been dictated by the war for much too long. This didn’t mean that others had not been affected by it, of course not, but Harry did believe that if anyone had been as messed up from the war as he was, it would be Snape. 

From what Harry had heard, everyone else was moving forward except for him. And maybe, Snape. Perhaps he was stuck just like Harry was, and that was why he was here to help, because Snape was used to fixing Harry’s mistakes.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of seeing Snape again. While he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, lonely as he was, Snape wasn’t exactly the best of company. It also looked like the man expected Harry to keep trying to cast spells, and Harry wasn’t thrilled at that prospect.

Best not to get his hopes up.

 _Still…_ Harry mused sleepily, _it’s nice of him to offer help, I guess. Snape being_ nice. _Who would’ve thought?_

Chuckling at his own thoughts- a nice Snape. What a weird idea that was!- Harry snuggled into the warmth of his bed, finding a comfortable position.

Moments later, he was fast asleep, drifting in a peaceful dream where he was happily surrounded by everyone he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite the second half of the chapter because I didn’t like what I wrote at all.  
> It’s a lot better now, in my opinion, but I hope you all like it as well!  
> Also, the big revelation! Is it possible that Harry’s magic never his, but Voldemort’s?  
> That question was what brought me to write this entire fic, really. I hope it wasn’t a disappointment!
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always :)


	6. Chapter 6

Having returned home, a certain Potions Master was questioning his own actions.

Why, _why,_ had he offered to help? Severus had absolutely no reason to. If Potter - for whatever reasons - believed he was a squib, then good for him. It was not something Severus had to concern himself with. 

Although, if there was one thing Severus was certain of, especially after that conversation, it was that Potter’s so-called “theory”was a ridiculous one.

Yes, his situation was special. It was unheard of. But the idea that all the magic he’d had was from Voldemort? Ludicrous. 

Harry Potter was not a squib, and Severus knew this, not just because he didn’t regard Potter’s intelligence very highly.

He had seen it, earlier when the boy had been trying to evict him for his prying questions. Potter’s magic had flared out, perhaps much weaker than it should have been and only lasting for a second, but it had definitely been there. So no, Potter was in no way a squib.

If Potter still believed himself one, though, Severus could have just accepted the opinion, decided it wasn’t his issue, and left. After all, what did it matter to him whether Potter believed something untrue or not?

And yet he’d offered _help_. 

Severus wanted to say it was an act of mere curiosity. That he had only made the choice because his life was currently quite monotonous, and this could prove to be an interesting project. That he was just curious about solving this conundrum. 

Partially, this was true. He did have nothing that required his attention at the moment, and he did find himself with a lot of time to spare.

But that had not been Severus’s only reason for his choice. It had been a spontaneous decision, to offer to help Potter. And at the moment of his decision, the only thought running through his head had been that he _genuinely_ wanted to help. He had - still did, if he was being honest - actually care about Potter regaining his magic.

Severus couldn’t precisely pinpoint his own motivation for his actions, though, and this was what troubled him most. 

Perhaps it had been how devastated the Gryffindor had looked. It was a look Severus was positive he’d never seen on the boy, a defeated kind of look that hadn’t been there even during the worst of the war. Potter was supposed to be defiant, and bold, and everything else that made him the insolent brat Severus remembered. And though Severus had wished, many times, that Potter wasn’t quite so much of a Gryffindor, the resigned expression he’d seen today had been unsettling.That look simply did not belong. 

The momentary flicker of hope when casting the _accio_ had also weighed on his mind. How quickly it had disappeared only meant that Potter was trying hard to push down his own emotions. He had obviously not made his peace with the idea of being a “squib.” If he had seemed comfortable, even happy, with his situation, maybe Severus wouldn’t have offered. Or maybe his interest in the situation might still have been enough to prompt him.

Either way, Severus now had roped himself into this project. He would figure this out, he was determined to do so. He just needed to decide how to proceed.

He already knew that Potter’s magic wasn’t truly lost, at least. That was one less obstacle to deal with.

However, this did not solve the question of _what_ was wrong with Potter’s magic. He was, for whatever reason, unable to access it properly. 

Why? And how? A wizard’s magic did not suddenly stop responding. Especially not when the wizard in question was a grown up, fully trained one. 

There were, of course, a couple diseases related to having unstable magic, but usually those came with various other symptoms- none of which he had noticed on Potter today. Severus did admit to himself that he may have missed some symptoms if there were any, considering the emotional turmoil the meeting had brought. He’d have to pay more attention tomorrow, just in case.

Even so, most cases with diseases meant a wizard’s magic would violently lash out at random intervals, regardless of the caster’s intentions. Usually, the wizard was unable to control their magic, and Severus was quite sure he had never seen a case where the magic simply didn’t show at all. 

All in all, Potter was in another predicament, and Severus too was unsure what he could do.

The first step would have to be watching Potter cast more spells, for obvious reasons. It would also be ideal if he could make that bit of magic from earlier show itself again. 

Severus began organizing his thoughts carefully, making notes of what spells he wanted Potter to try and how he could coax out his magic. Thinking it better not to leave any doubts, he also resolved to look up more on horcruxes, just in case. The research would take time, since horcruxes weren’t popular topics, but it could be worth the effort. The horcrux hadn’t taken his magic, but Severus also thought that Potter wasn’t entirely wrong in the idea that it could have had an effect on him. 

_Better safe than sorry,_ he decided.

* * *

“ _Accio,”_ Harry called out, tiredly.

Snape had arrived precisely at six, just like he had promised. Harry hadn’t expected anything different - if nothing else, Snape definitely kept his word - but Harry had not foreseen being treated like an experiment.

As soon as he came in, Snape had jumped straight to the point, not wasting a single moment. Harry had been ordered to try and cast a bunch of different spells, ranging from _lumos_ , which they’d already tried yesterday, to _expecto patronum,_ which was still the most difficult spell Harry knew how to cast _._ Given no option other than to obey, he had done as he was told and tried the spells.

Of course, none of them gave him any response. Harry had known they wouldn’t. But knowing and seeing were two very different things, and he struggled not to be too upset over the results.

After a while, Snape seemed to have reached the conclusion that Harry’s magic wouldn’t show different reactions to different spells. He stopped Harry’s spellcasting, telling him that he wanted to try something different and focus on one spell.

Which was why, right now, Harry was being forced to repeatedly cast the summoning charm. He had cast it on various objects, from a close distance to far away, in a number of different areas of his house.

It was, frankly, ridiculous. And tiring.

As much as Harry was thankful that Snape wanted to help, he had already gone through this stage, months ago. He had cast all the spells he had learned, over and over, just as he was doing now, but to no avail. Harry knew, as a fact, that nothing was going to happen, not like this.

He also admitted, silently, that he hated the feeling of uselessness that pressured him every time he failed to cast. What good was he, if he could not even do this? Harry had grown up being taught that he was a waste of space, and magic had been what led him to learn that that was wrong. But without magic… well, he was nothing, and he hated the realization.

After the millionth _accio_ , Harry was both worn out and cranky.

“Can we stop?” he questioned finally. So far, he’d followed Snape’s instructions, but he was much too exhausted to continue further.

Snape sharply turned to look straight at him.

“Stop?” he shot back incredulously.

Harry quickly backtracked, berating himself for speaking up.

“I mean, just a break, maybe, or tea,” he mumbled, feeling stupid. “It’s been quite a while.”

To his surprise, Snape studied him for a minute before his expression softened minutely, gesturing at the couch.

“Alright. We can take a break from casting. Sit.”

Harry sat, still a little astonished but extremely relieved. Maybe he would get a break now.

“I have a couple matters I wish to discuss before we resume.”

Or not.

“It’s not going to work. I told you, though I appreciate your help, this is going to be a waste of time,” Harry griped grumpily.

“That attitude is exactly what I want to address. You’ve already convinced yourself you are a squib. This will only slow down any progress. I want you to believe that it is not true.”

Harry blinked. _What?_

“But it is!” he insisted. _How was he supposed to just_ believe _it wasn’t true?_

“And how can you possibly know that? Did we not come to the agreement that you are no seer yesterday?” Snape threw back.

Harry suppressed a loud sigh. He felt like this discussion was going nowhere.

“I _can’t_ cast. What more reason do you want?” he murmured wearily, letting his head fall back against the couch with a thump.

“Listen to me, Potter. You are not a squib. You have magic, you are just failing to utilize it properly. What we need to do is find out why. Your current attitude, however, is only a hindrance.”

Harry tilted his head so that he could look Snape in the eye. He raised an eyebrow at the man, purposefully copying the expression Harry had seen him do so many times.

“You keep saying that. That I’m not a squib. How can you still say that after these past _hours_?”

Instead of an immediate answer, Harry received silence. Snape looked like he was debating with himself over something, so Harry let him be, waiting until he reached a decision. 

“I had not planned on informing you of this,” Snape began quietly, “but I saw it react yesterday. Your magic, that is. You were probably too caught up in your own emotions to notice.”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry said immediately. There was _no way_ that was possible. _No way._

“That, Potter, is why I didn’t bother to tell you. You asked, did you not?”

Harry glared at him.

“What I’m saying is that you aren’t trying to cast properly,” Snape continued. “I need you to give me your best effort.”

“What do you mean I’m not trying to cast properly? Then what do you think I have been doing these past hours?” Harry countered, a little insulted.

* * *

Severus sighed. That had not been what he meant by his words at all. 

Time to try a different approach.

“Answer me this, Potter. What is the most fundamental requirement necessary to accurately cast a spell?” he inquired, catching Potter off guard.

Potter stared blankly at him for a couple moments, slowly opening his mouth to answer.

“The incantation? Or the wand movement, maybe,” he replied hesitantly.

That answer was a little disappointing, but also very much expected. Likely most, if not all, students in Hogwarts would reply the same way. It was an easy mistake to make, but also a critical one. 

“No, Potter. Try again,” he prompted.

“Um, focus?” Potter answered, wrinkling his nose in obvious confusion.

Severus shook his head lightly.

“Slightly better, but not quite. Let me change my question, then. What is required, other than the incantation or the wand movement, to correctly cast one of the unforgivables?”

“...Intention?”

Severus inclined his head towards Potter, acknowledging his answer.

“Correct. You need to sincerely _desire_ to cause harm to the other in order to properly cast an unforgivable. Otherwise, it doesn’t give you the results it should. I believe you already have, unfortunately, been intimately acquainted with this fact. It is no different when it comes to other spells, however. Intention is the most crucial element of any spell. Wand movements and incantations only help you focus your mind and your magic, they are not necessary factors. If they were, wandless or wordless spells would not exist.”

For demonstration, Severus raised his wand, wordlessly spelling more tea into his cup. He watched as Potter’s eyes followed the movement, a sort of longing lingering in his expression.

“To cast a spell, in any way, you need to _want_ it to happen. If you do not, it will not work.”

Potter’s gaze snapped upwards.

“But I do want it to happen!” he protested. 

Severus shook his head, speaking up quickly to cut off any more arguments.

“No, you _think_ you do, Potter. There is a difference. You’ve already made yourself believe you are a squib. That belief, currently, is embedded more strongly in your mind than your longing to reclaim magic. To proceed, you must break it.”

“You don’t understand. I want to have magic, more than you could possibly think, more than _anything,_ ” Potter insisted stubbornly.

The strong emphasis put on the idea that Severus wouldn’t understand his yearning to have magic was quite intriguing. Severus cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? Is that so?”

This stubbornness could prove to be useful. If the boy truly felt that strongly about this, maybe he wasn’t a lost cause after all. Severus had been doubtful, because every spell Potter had cast earlier had been halfhearted at best. And with the way this conversation was going, he’d been dubious about whether he could make this work.

Maybe, though, if Potter did long for his magic as much as he said he did, then with just a little push to drive him forward…

“ _Yes_ ,” Potter hissed back, face flushed with indignation.

Conviction. Good. 

_We just might reach a breakthrough today,_ Severus thought.

No Gryffindor would choose to back down when provoked, and certainly not _this_ one. If fact, Severus was appalled at the fact that he hadn’t thought of this earlier. Had it not been emotions that made the boy’s magic react the day before as well? 

_Combine his wish for having back his magic with his desire to prove me wrong._

Severus felt his mouth curl upwards into a small smirk, a challenge in his eyes as he met Potter’s green ones. 

“Then show me, Potter. Make me believe you. _Make that pillow move_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!  
> As this is my first multi-chapter fic, writing it is proving a little difficult, but I’m trying my best! There’s a reason why I’d planned on this being only about 10K at first, although at this point it seems like the story has a mind of its own.  
> I’m still unsure where it’s going now, it has changed so much!
> 
> But thank you all for reading it, despite its flaws :)


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Make that pillow move.”_

Harry bit his lip, forcing himself to choke back a rude comment. 

He, too, was just as dissatisfied as Snape seemed, arguably even more so. It wasn’t like he _chose_ to fail.

Averting his gaze from the man, Harry flicked his wand at the pillow once more.

“ _Accio,”_ he spoke, trying to will it to him like Snape had said.

“No, stop,” Snape interrupted. “You’re still acting like someone who has already convinced themselves that they are incapable of success. Have you forgotten every word I’ve said? Intention, Potter. Believe it will work, or it never will.”

Harry turned to glare at him, eyes blazing in annoyance. He _had_ listened, and he _was_ trying to believe. What more did Snape expect of him?

He turned his glare on the pillow and called once more, this time speaking clearer and with more force than any time before.

“ _Accio!”_ he cast, focusing all his frustration and centering it on his spell. _Move,_ he commanded in his mind, narrowing his eyes further.

To his utter astonishment, the pillow shifted. 

Admittedly, it did not come flying to him, as it should have if he’d actually succeeded in the spell. Nor did it even move enough to fall to the ground. It just gave a slight _twitch,_ before returning to its previous position.

This was nothing impressive. In fact, it was, without a doubt, a horrible performance. Possibly one of the worst Harry thought he’d ever seen.

And yet it was the first sign of magic he had seen from himself in months. 

Harry stared disbelievingly at the pillow, then at his own hand, feeling a sudden urge to burst out in tears. It was stupid, he shouldn’t be this affected by it… but he _was._

He just barely managed to stop himself from doing exactly so, restraining himself only so that he would not be embarrassed later on.

“Well. Looks like we now have our proof,” Snape spoke up from somewhere around him.

But Harry wasn’t listening. Barely registering the words, he raised his wand again, hand trembling slightly.

“ _Accio,_ ” he shakingly whispered, desperately hoping for one more, just _one_ more indication of the magic’s existence. 

The moment’s miracle had already passed, however, for the pillow lay, irresponsive, once again.

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, giving it another try. And another. And one more.

His efforts were all in vain.

The magic was lost to him once more, having disappeared just as suddenly as it had made its presence known.

_But it had been there._

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to calm down, to quell the raging emotions that threatened to take over. Thoughts, questions, feelings burned within him, none of which he could properly answer or place a name to.

Not being a squib was a relief, of this Harry was certain. He’d made the pillow move. So, then, he should be happy, shouldn’t he? Or maybe he was, he didn’t understand his own mind.

But what was he, then? He wasn’t a squib, but couldn’t really call himself a wizard, either. The weakest wizard to ever have existed, perhaps. Was that really better than a squib? If one pathetic little jerk of a pillow was all he could manage, at the best of times, what was the use?

On the other hand, it was possible that more practice might help. He’d been at this for only one day, after all. This was progress. He could hope to get better in time, if he just worked harder, practiced more, then maybe...

But did he dare let himself feel that hope? What happened if it all came crashing down on him? Was he ready to face that fall again, if it came to it?

Harry wasn’t too sure.

As if sensing that Harry needed some time alone, Snape suddenly stood up from his seat, startling Harry out of his internal distress.

“I doubt we will be making any more progress today. Think on it, Potter. I shall see you tomorrow, at the same time,” he said, quickly excusing himself.

He made his way to the door, opening it. Before he left, however, he turned back once more, looking contemplatively at Harry’s still frozen form.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Potter. You did well - better than I’d expected.”

The door shut before Harry could think of a response, leaving him stranded where he was, still out of sorts.

* * *

While Harry was in turmoil, another wizard was in deep thought as well. Severus Snape was busy going over the events that had occured, and what needed to be done next.

Severus was pleased that his idea had worked out. And he was glad that Potter was an unbelievably willful being, for as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Severus had been counting on Potter’s headstrong personality. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if it hadn’t been so.

Severus prayed that the stubbornness would last through however long this took. He could tell that Potter was shaken today, and he could see the boy’s troubled thoughts expressed on his face. The obvious stress and indecision was part of what led Severus to say those final words before returning home. Because if today was anything to go by, this would not be an easy journey, emotionally or physically. 

While Potter had managed to cast a spell - well, _somewhat_ managed to cast one - it wasn’t as effective as Severus had anticipated. 

This meant that there were more factors that needed to be addressed. Severus had to investigate some more, find other reasons and solutions to this situation.

Researching horcruxes, then, would have to be his next step. It was the most obvious choice right now.

Severus remembered that Granger had mentioned the locket horcrux influencing the emotions of the wearer. The diary had been powerful enough to possess the youngest Weasley. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine that the horcrux had something to do with Potter’s current dilemma, too. Just in a different way than Potter had originally suspected.

The problem was that as far as Severus knew, most books that mentioned horcruxes - which wasn’t very many - only glossed over the general idea and didn’t go in depth about its influences or effects. This was likely because of how dangerous the subject was, and also because it was an area no one had had the chance, nor the need, to investigate. 

In fact, Severus was convinced that the one who knew most about these horcruxes was none other than Potter himself, maybe his two friends. He was likely going to end up questioning Potter on every little piece of information on Voldemort’s horcruxes he could recall. That conversation was not going to be a pleasant one, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

It was never wrong to do more background research, though, so that was where Severus planned on beginning.

He started planning out places he needed to visit, listing the books he required. 

Hogwarts, definitely, not only for the library but also in case Albus’s portrait had any ideas. And because Severus had a few choice words he wished to... _offer_ the former headmaster. 

Where else? The Malfoys could have something related, and Severus had made a promise to visit Narcissa soon anyway. 

Grimmauld Place, with the Blacks’ library, was thankfully something Potter had access to, so he could ask for anything he might need from there. Though Severus had no idea what existed in that depressing house, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had secret piles of forbidden books and journals. The Blacks weren’t a dark family for no reason.

Severus made a few more quick notes of other people he could ask for ideas and help. 

To make his visits and start his research, he would likely have to take a couple days, he realized. Well, Potter could probably do without seeing him for a while. Severus assumed Potter would be glad not to see him around. After that, he could return to discuss the subject further with Potter and decide what to do next.

It looked like this new project of his was going to take quite some time.

_Well then,_ Severus thought, _it is a good thing that for once, we have all the time in the world._

* * *

The next day, Harry was feeling much brighter and refreshed. He had spent the rest of the day before arguing with his own mind, fretting over what this change meant, and telling himself repeatedly that he should give this a try instead of giving up because he was afraid of being disappointed. 

Today, he’d woken up very late but with a newfound sense of hope, having managed to persuade himself into thinking that yes, it was still better to have near-to-no magic than to have absolutely no magic at all. If this was all he got, then so be it. But he would _not_ give up before he even tried. 

When Snape arrived, right on time once more, Harry had yet to eat, having started the day later than usual.

“Have you eaten dinner, sir?” Harry asked lightly upon the man’s entrance.

“Not yet,” Snape replied slowly, looking confused at Harry’s drastic overnight change in demeanor.

“Would you like some, then? I always make too much for myself anyway,” Harry offered.

This was true. Harry was used to making food for the Dursleys, which meant he was a fairly decent cook, but also meant he ended up making more food than he could eat. It was no trouble to give Snape some, and it was also the least Harry felt he could do. While he still seemed mostly a squib, Harry was also a lot more optimistic about the situation. That maybe things could make a turn for the better. 

He’d be lying if he said Snape’s words yesterday hadn’t been helpful, too. The words were unexpected, but had meant a lot to Harry, especially seeing as they were the first somewhat complementary ones he’d received from Snape.

The man in question looked at him oddly.

“You made too much for yourself?” 

“I always do. It’s a habit, I’m just used to cooking large amounts,” Harry explained vaguely, not wanting to delve into any specifics. That part of his life was over, he would not dwell on it if he could help it.

Snape still looked confused, but gave Harry a slight nod.

Harry nodded in response, grabbing another plate and filling it up.

“Here,” he offered, setting down the food and sitting down opposite Snape.

As they started eating, an awkward silence stretched across the table, both unsure what to talk about. 

“Um. So, what have you been doing since the war? I mean, you sort of know what I’ve been up to, but I have no idea about you,” Harry finally said, after the silence became too much for him to bear.

Snape seemed rather amused at Harry’s attempt to engage in a conversation, but apparently decided to humor him.

“I have been helping with some of the rebuilding, and focusing on recovering as well as making some plans of my own. I presume it has been mostly similar to what everyone else has been doing. Including yourself, I assume.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s what I’ve been doing too… except that I don’t know what I want to do now,” Harry said quietly, letting out a small sigh. 

“You have time,” Snape responded. Then, “I have not yet decided my next step either.”

“You haven’t?” Harry asked, eyes wide. He’d wondered if that might be the case, but to have his presumptions confirmed was a little surprising.

“No. There are things that still need to be done. Debts that need to be paid. Recoveries to be made. And…”

Snape paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“Speaking of which, I have a couple errands that I must attend to over the next few days. After today, you will not see me until next week.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry answered, feeling oddly disappointed at the prospect of being alone again. 

But of course, Snape would have other things to do than look after Harry all the time. And maybe people to meet, although Harry wasn’t aware of any friends the man had. But Harry did wonder at the phrasing. _Errands._ What errands could Snape be talking about?

After that, there was a bit of a lull in conversation, though surprisingly not an awkward one anymore. Harry focused on watching Snape out of the corner of his eye, observing him thoughtfully. 

He didn’t really know Snape at all, he realized. A couple memories didn’t give him that much information. Maybe these magic “lessons” might let him change that a little. Out of the war, Snape didn’t seem half as nasty as he had before, and he’d even apologized. And maybe Harry could also learn some more about his mother, as well. If he could convince Snape into speaking, that is.

Once they’d both eaten enough, it was time for more practice. Much like the day before, Harry went about casting some different spells. He was more diverse with the spells this time, casting the same spell countless times was much too tedious.

Sadly, the second day of spells didn’t yield much, unlike the first day. Harry tried to get back into the same mindset he’d had yesterday, but it just wasn’t working out. 

The end of the day’s work left Harry disappointed, although it really was as he’d expected. There was never going to be a noticeable improvement overnight.

“I will see you Tuesday,” Snape said as he got ready to go.

Harry nodded, calculating in his head. Tuesday was four days away. _Not too long,_ he decided, though he wasn’t much looking forward to isolation once more.

“I expect, Potter, that you will continue practicing even without me to tell you to,” Snape continued, giving him a stern look that Harry remembered from Potions classes. Weirdly enough, it didn’t really scare him anymore, though it did still make him stand up a little straighter.

“I will,” Harry promised earnestly. 

_It’s not like I have anything else to do here,_ was added silently within the privacy if his own mind. 

Snape scrutinized him for a while, eyes narrowed. It seemed like he found whatever it was he’d wanted to find, though, because he soon straightened and nodded at Harry before sweeping out. But even though Snape had not said anything else, Harry was once more left in wide-eyed confusion. It was becoming a bit of a routine at this point.

Harry could have _sworn_ he’d just seen a smile. 

Barely noticeable, but a smile, nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning: the next chapter might be a little slow in coming!  
> I realize that this one is a but later than usual too, and I’m so sorry! I’ve never explicitly made any promises to post a certain day, but I’ve been trying to write a chapter every week. However, the last week and the next few following ones are absolutely hectic for me, so it will take a while.  
> I’ll still try my best to write it as soon as I can!
> 
> Thank you :)


	8. Chapter 8

Severus looked up at Malfoy Manor. He couldn’t honestly say that he wanted to be here again. The last time he’d been here… those were some memories he did not wish to go into. He pushed back the unwanted reminders, tightened his occlumency shields around them, and knocked on the door.

A house elf, of whose name Severus did not recall, came to the door to escort him into a small room. Well, small by the Malfoys’ standards, that was.

Inside, he was greeted by Narcissa.

“Severus! Come, sit down.”

“Narcissa,” he replied, taking a seat across her.

“How are you? You really do look a lot better than before, I trust things have been going alright?”

“I am well. And yourself? I cannot imagine it has been easy for you, not with Lucius-“

He stopped himself. _Not with Lucius in Azkaban_. That was what he was going to say, but Severus wasn’t sure how Narcissa would react.

“You can say it, you know. I’m fine, really.” She took a deep breath, then continued, “Actually, I think it’s better this way. I loved — _love_ — my husband, but I’m not blind to his faults. Nor my own.”

She gave him a wry smile. Severus simply nodded. He knew all too well just what it felt like, coming to terms with the wrong choices you made. He still had much to deal with himself.

“And how is Draco?” he asked instead.

“Draco…” Narcissa’s face dropped as she faltered, “Draco’s recovering. He’s getting better, though I can tell he’s still struggling. My son has always been so open with me, but directly after the war he really had me worried. The war left quite the impact on him.” 

“I do not doubt that. Draco’s life has always been sheltered, the war must have changed the way he perceives the world. I will admit, in some aspects he may have needed it. Although, if he is still terribly affected by it, that may be a matter of concern. Perhaps you may want to consult a mind healer?”

“No, I think he’ll be okay. I will consider it if he doesn’t seem to be improving, but for now he’s learning to come to terms with everything. But you should have seen how bad it was at first — wouldn’t come out of his room, wouldn’t even speak to me. Come to think of it, he was practically acting like you do when you’re in a mood!”

Severus frowned at her. 

“What are you trying to tell me?”

She smiled back at him a little apologetically.

“I don’t mean anything bad, Severus, you know that. Besides, even you have to admit that you can be so dramatic sometimes. Really, I don’t know where you’re going to find someone who can keep up with you when you’re acting like that.”

“Narcissa,” he warned, stiffening at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

“Oh, come on, Severus. You do need someone special in your life, don’t you? The war is over, what more is there to worry about?”

“I do not need anyone, war or no. The war had nothing to do with my not having a lover, and its end will not affect me now.”

Narcissa only crossed her arms at him.

“And tell me, how are you going to live your life happily with that attitude? You should have someone by your side, maybe that’ll soothe your temper a little. Though, whoever it is will have to be extremely stubborn to be able to outdo you,” she said, giving him a light glare.

Unbidden, Severus’s mind flashed to Potter at the mention of stubbornness. He discarded the thought the moment it occurred to him. _Ridiculous._

“No, I rather doubt that will ever happen. Nor do I desire for it to,” he said firmly.

“You know I only want you to be happy. You deserve to be.” Narcissa let out a small sigh, “I know of your affections for Lily Potter, but surely, it is time to let it go?”

Lily wasn’t a topic he wished to breach either. Severus decided that for his sake, it was time to change the subject. There was another reason for his being here today, after all. 

“As interesting as this conversation is becoming,” he drawled, “I must admit that this is not entirely a social call.”

Narcissa straightened, looking at him inquisitively.

“It is not often you ask for something, Severus. What is it?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you the specifics, it is a rather private matter. I merely wished to ask permission to look through your library.”

“You know you always have access to our library.” She paused, observing him. “I assume you’re going to go now, then?”

Narcissa’s tone wasn’t accusing, but Severus stopped at her words, turning to face her. It hadn’t been long since he’d arrived, and he’d barely made any conversation. With his thoughts already otherwise preoccupied, Severus hadn’t been considering whether he was being rude to her. Which, he now realized, he was.

“I could stay a little longer,” he offered quietly, but Narcissa only shook her head at him, giving him an understanding look.

“I know you, you never let anything distract you from your research, and I’ve long since learned not to be offended by it. Go, borrow what you need to. So long as you promise to come by sometime soon.”

“I promise.”

* * *

Harry was unusually irritable today. There really wasn’t anything _wrong,_ he was just… 

Well. _Lonely,_ he supposed.

He was quite used to being alone, that was true. But the past few days — and had it really only been a few days? It felt like so much _more_ — had given him someone to talk to, and if Snape wasn’t the best conversationalist, he was certainly better than no one. 

Harry knew he’d said he would practice, and that was what he was supposed to be doing, but he just wasn’t up for it. He _had_ cast a few things, if only because he’d made a promise, but even he could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.

Which was why Harry was half lying, half sitting on his couch, one arm dangling off the edge as he stared blankly at the ceiling. 

He’d been debating the pros and cons of remaining in his current position forever — it was rather comfortable — when an owl flew in, catching his attention.

With a groan, he forced himself up, taking a letter from the owl and offering it a few treats before checking over the letter.

It was addressed to him in Hermione’s writing.

For a moment, Harry was disappointed. Just a little, even though technically there was no reason for anyone other than Ron and Hermione to contact him.

_And Snape?_ his mind asked. He decided to ignore it.

Looking at Hermione’s letter, Harry instantly felt guilty for his own feelings. He knew he should forever be grateful for Ron and Hermione and their unwavering support. Wincing in shame, he also realized that he had forgotten to answer their last letter. 

Berating himself for his actions, Harry quickly opened the new letter. They really deserved a better friend than him. 

* * *

Harry,

We didn’t get a response to our last letter, and while we understand that you may be busy, wherever you are, we are a little worried.

Ron told me to wait, he said that you’d answer soon, but I couldn’t help it anymore.

I’ll admit, Harry, that I didn’t think you’d stay away this long when you left. 

I miss you. We miss you.

I wish you’d tell us more. Haven’t we always stood by your side, in any situation? I don’t know what it is, or why you’re being so distant, but I just wish you’d talk to us.

Don’t you dare think that I haven’t noticed how elusive you’re being in response to all our questions, Harry. I certainly have. So don’t try to tell me everything is okay when it’s obviously not.

I won’t rush you yet, I’m going to try and be patient with you, but if nothing else, you better keep in touch with us.

And if you don’t, I swear on our friendship that I will track you down and force it out of you. You know I will.

Hermione

* * *

By the end, Harry’s guilt had doubled. He knew, he _knew_ Hermione was doing this partly on purpose, to get some answers out of him. But he also knew it was more because she was truly concerned about him. 

It also seemed like he hadn’t done as good of a job convincing them that things were fine as he’d thought. Knowing Hermione’s thirst for knowing everything, the fact that she’d waited this long to confront him meant a lot. And she’d still said that she would keep waiting if he didn’t tell her straight away.

Though there was a bit of a threat at the end, Harry understood her underlying worry. Actually, he was sure this was a highly censored and toned down version of what she really felt. It only served to make himself feel worse about how he’d been treating her.

Wallowing in his own guilt, Harry nearly failed to notice another owl fly in. He blinked in confusion as he carefully took the letter from it.

This time, it was from Ron.

* * *

Harry,

Hope you’re okay, mate. Hermione’s been really anxious.

Actually, I believe she’s already sent you another letter about this, hasn’t she? I did tell her to wait for you, but you know how she gets when she’s stressed.

Don’t worry too much about her, she’ll calm down once you send a response. And she doesn’t really mean whatever threats she made, if she included any in her letter. She’s just worried for you.

We’ll see you when you’re ready for it. Don’t rush for our sake.

But do placate Hermione when you answer, will you? She’s been driving me mad!

And please don’t tell her I said that!

Ron

* * *

Harry snorted, amused now. Those two were really made for each other. He just didn’t understand how it took them so long to see that. 

Setting down the two letters side by side and looking down at them, Harry tapped his fingers against the table.

He really did miss them. But as much as he wanted to see them, he could not promise anything, not just yet. Not like this.

He resolved to write a proper response after dinner, after he thought out exactly what he wanted to say, but in the meantime..

He turned and snatched his wand up from where it had dropped to the floor, returning to his practice with a newfound vigor.

* * *

Severus threw his quill down with more force than was necessary. So far, nothing had been of much help. The books he’d gone through focused only on horcruxes were, how they were made. There was no information that he didn’t know already. Nothing on its effects on the container of the soul piece.

It was to be expected, but he was still annoyed.

He would visit Hogwarts the next day and see if he could gain any information there, Severus figured. For now, he decided that he could do with a short break. 

Making himself a cup of tea, he settled down on an armchair.

Within the privacy of his own home, he let his guard down a little, letting his mind free. It was probably the only place he could do so. Though occlumency shields were not necessary anymore, Severus had simply become too used to having them that he felt vulnerable if he let them down. He only allowed himself to truly relax when he knew he was alone and wouldn’t be bothered.

Despite how quickly he’d dismissed Narcissa’s words earlier that day, they remained in his mind. 

_You need someone in your life._

It was not the first time he’d been told something along those lines. In fact, Minerva also seemed to enjoy telling him so every chance she had. Likely, he’d hear those words from her again tomorrow. 

He didn’t see why they insisted on telling him this. For one, it wasn’t even something for him to decide. Severus knew he wasn’t an easy person to get along with. Most wished to have nothing to do with him, and no one could stand him when he was, as Narcissa had put it, “in one of his moods.”

No one would. The only person who had come close had been Lily, and he had lost her, to his own mistakes, no less.

That was another thing. If anyone ever mentioned Lily to him, it was with the assumption that he had loved her - _romantically_. 

Which wasn’t true. Severus never bothered to correct anyone — it didn’t matter what they thought of him — but while he had loved Lily and still did, it was not necessarily the type of love everyone seemed to think it was.

Regardless, the person who’d been closest to him emotionally was Lily. He did have a select few people who could classify as “friends” now, but even around them, he chose to remain a certain distance. And he most definitely did not see anyone choosing to enter a relationship with him.

Severus supposed that it might be nice. But he did not deserve many nicities in his life. The fact that he was alive was enough. The fact that he was free to plan his future was enough.

He did not mind too much. At this point, he had had more than enough time to come to terms with the idea of being alone.

He did not need anything more. He did not.

_You do not,_ he told himself firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally decided to write?  
> I’m so sorry for being this late, I swear I didn’t mean to take nearly an entire month!  
> But here you go, another chapter :)
> 
> Thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

It was perhaps with a little apprehension that Severus flooed to the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. Hogwarts, he knew, was his best bet. The only other person who had researched horcruxes thoroughly — excluding Voldemort himself — was Albus, after all. He just hoped that the portrait version of Albus knew where the book Severus required was located.

“Severus!” he heard Minerva exclaim as he arrived. 

“Minerva.” Severus braced himself against the onslaught that he knew was coming. Minerva, for whatever reason, had always made it her job to fuss over his well-being. 

“How have you been? Look at you, you really do need to take better care of yourself! Are you even eating and sleeping properly?”

He wasn’t, but Severus certainly wasn’t about to tell her so. Though he appreciated her worry, his problems were his own, simple as that. He spoke quickly, effectively keeping her from scolding him further or asking any more questions about his life.

“Minerva, may I speak to Albus?”

She blinked at him in confusion, but nodded and stepped back.

“Of course. Albus, wake up,” she ordered the portrait, who had been asleep — or maybe he was just pretending to be. With Albus, one never knew.

A twinkling blue eye opened to look at him. It had always been irritating, that all-knowing gleam, but now Severus felt more bothered by it than ever before. No, he could never look at Albus the same way after everything he’d seen and heard.

“Severus, my boy,” the former headmaster greeted, sounding as jovial as ever.

“Albus.” Severus couldn’t entirely mask his displeasure. The bright eyes dulled a little at his flat tone.

“Ah, Minerva, my dear, could you leave us for a moment?” the former headmaster requested.

“What are you two up to  _ now?” _

She looked at them both suspiciously, eyes narrowed. Severus just looked back at her blankly, letting nothing show on his face. 

“We will be fine, Minerva. Just a few minutes.”

“Well. If you insist…” she gave them both another distrustful look before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

“Do you know what I’m here for?” Severus questioned, going straight to the point. There was no use beating around the bush when he knew what he needed. He did not wish to spend more time alone with Albus than was required. Likely, he’d lose his mind if he did. 

“Yes, though I’d wished it would be unnecessary,” the portrait sighed a little. “ _ Secrets of the Darkest Art. _ Look in that drawer — no, that that one, the small one below, yes. Place your wand against the lock and say “Acid Pops”.”

“Albus, your security is horrendous, has anyone ever told you that?” He placed his wand against the drawer as told. 

“Acid Pops.”

The drawer snapped open, and Severus found the book and a couple pages of parchment within it.

“Why, I do believe you are the first to tell me so, Severus. Oh, and take those parchments too, they will help you.”

Severus turned back to face the portrait, watching him warily.

“What are they?”

Albus smiled at him, though it lacked the usual cheery nature. Instead, it was more of a sad smile, as if he knew that Severus hadn’t forgiven him for his actions.

“Something related to what you’re researching. They  _ will _ help, this I can promise you.”

Annoyed at the cryptic answer, Severus picked up the book and parchment, intent on leaving the room quickly. He was stopped before he could, however.

“Severus?”

He sighed, turning around. 

“Yes, Albus?”

“I know you aren’t happy with me. I know I’ve made wrong choices, and I do not expect you to forgive me for them. But I implore you to do just one thing more for me. The two of you are quite alike, you know. You and Harry. Help him see what you once did not understand. That is all I ask.”

Severus rubbed at his forehead, where he was beginning to feel the hints of a migraine. 

“Is that all? Will you never give me a straight answer, Albus? Even in death? Even after everything you know you’ve done?”

The former headmaster gave him a pained look. 

“I suppose I deserve a lot worse for what I’ve done. But this is something you will see when the time is right, my boy. You will see.”

Holding back a retort, Severus turned away from the portrait and left without another word.

* * *

Four days had gone by. Tuesday had arrived. 

And Harry had decided to make dinner. Again. This time, he hadn’t just accidentally made too much, he’d intended to.

Why? He wasn’t quite sure. Gratitude, perhaps. He couldn’t really explain his own reasoning.

Snape arrived at 6 p.m. on the dot as usual. As he went to open the door, Harry wondered if the man was ever not punctual. It was almost as if he had some sort of internal clock, the way he always appeared right on time.

Upon entering the house, Snape looked taken aback for a moment at the table being set before he quickly regained his usual composure.

“I, uh, made dinner again? I mean, if you didn’t eat already, that is. If you did, I can just-“ Harry rambled on, cutting off as Snape walked over to the table and sat down in a seat without a word.

“Oh. Okay..?” Harry took a seat as well, feeling a little foolish.

As they started eating, Harry stalled a little, feeling a sense of deja vu at the awkwardness in the air. He wanted to say something, make any conversation, but had no idea where to start.

Surprisingly, it was Snape that spoke up first.

“Potter, there is something we must discuss.”

The words had Harry instantly on guard. Had Snape finally given up on his condition?

“My magical inabilities? Do you think it’s impossible for me to improve?”

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, shaking his head.

“No, not that. I haven’t given up, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, I believe this may help your problem.”

“What is it?” Harry leaned forward, interested. Anything that could help him was good news.

“I wish to discuss horcruxes.”

Or not. 

Whatever Harry had expected, that wasn’t it. Not at all. His mind reeled.

“ _ Horcruxes?” _

“Yes, horcruxes,” Snape replied, talking slowly as if he were explaining something to a child.

“But… what about them?” Harry was more than happy to leave all thoughts of horcruxes behind him. What more was possibly left to discuss on that topic?

“Many things, Potter. But first, I want you to answer a question for me. The locket, I heard it influenced your friend’s behavior, but what about his magic? Were there any changes? Think carefully before you answer.”

Something clicked in Harry’s mind as he processed the question. His confusion turned to understanding, then indignance.

“Hang on, the last time I told you my magic could have been influenced by the horcrux, you told me it was impossible!” he accused, pointing a finger at Snape. The man didn’t even blink.

“So I did. I may have been wrong.”

Harry gaped at him. For one, his admittance to his mistake was surprising. At the same time, Snape was so completely unapologetic in his tone of voice that it made Harry feel like he was the one who’d said something wrong. 

“Do you require a more formal apology for my quick dismissal of your former opinions?” Snape questioned dryly when Harry failed to say anything. The sarcasm snapped Harry back into reality.

“Um, no? Well, actually, that would be nice, but not really, I guess,” Harry muttered, fumbling over his words.

Snape just hummed and gestured at him to start speaking.

“So, uh, the locket. Well, honestly I can’t be certain if it influenced his magic. It didn’t do anything to mine, from what I remember.” He thought for a second, then frowned, “No, wait. Does it count that we weren’t able to cast our patronuses when we had the locket with us? Is that the horcrux affecting our mind or our magic?”

“Either. Or both, I would say, considering the nature of a patronus. I suppose we cannot be certain. As for why I’ve brought this up — here. Take this.” Snape handed Harry a piece of paper. Harry looked at it curiously, confused.

“What is this?” he asked, looking back up at the man.

“Read the underlined parts. Aloud, if you would.”

“Ever since I have had possession of the ring, there have been some noticeable changes. Leaving out the obvious curse, and the physical pain due to it, I still feel more drained than I should. If I am to be honest, it is almost as though my magic is weakening. — wait. Did Dumbledore write this?”

“Yes, I got it from him a couple days ago. That is unimportant, keep reading.”

Harry frowned at the dismissal. He didn’t agree. It was important, and very much so. Because this meant that Snape had apparently gone and asked Dumbledore about his predicament. And if that was true, Harry doubted Dumbledore was the only person Snape had asked. Snape was truly trying to be helpful and he didn’t know what to say to that. Still frowning in thought, Harry turned his eyes back down to the page and continued to read.

“It is possible that this could be because of the horcrux in the ring. I may not have it on me at all times, but it is likely. Horcruxes affect those who are mentally unstable most, and I was most unstable at the moment I tried to put on the ring. I do not know for certain if it takes from my magic to empower itself or if it is changing mine, but I believe it is safe to assume that this is a side effect of having it near me.”

He skipped down to the bottom of the page.

“If a horcrux affects the magic of those near it, what can it do to a container? This I cannot answer, though I may expect the effects to be similar to possession — perhaps much like how young Miss Weasley was possessed by the diary. It remains to be seen, but I believe we will have some insight on this after the war, if things go as planned. Even if I presume I will not be there to see it.”

As he finished reading, Harry grew silent, gears turning as he processed the words.

“So it  _ can _ affect magic?” he finally asked. It was the only thing he could think of to say. He winced when he realized just how stupid he sounded, expecting Snape to insult his intelligence. Of course it affected magic, that was what the entire page was talking about.

But Snape only gave him a small nod.

“That is the basic idea. I will explain more on my thoughts later, but there is something I want to try before that. Show me what you worked on these past few days.” With that, he stood up from his seat, making his way to the living room.

Harry blinked after him, slightly lost. Shrugging, he stood up to follow Snape out of the kitchen.

* * *

The boy was fidgeting. He looked like he had something to say, but didn’t know how to bring it up. It was extremely annoying, not to mention an unnecessary distraction.

“Spit it out Potter, what is it?” Severus finally snapped after a few minutes, whipping around to glare at Potter.

Potter looked back at him with wide eyes, looking startled. It made for a funny picture, and Severus had to hold back his sudden urge to laugh at the sight. After a moment, Potter opened his mouth, averting his gaze as he spoke.

“I wanted to ask something — Your…  _ errands,  _ then, they were for this? For me?” 

That… was phrased interestingly. While it was more or less true, Severus wouldn’t have said it quite like that. Potter made it sound like he’d gone and done some grand gesture, like saving the world, just for him. The way Potter had stated it was, frankly, a little unnerving. Severus wasn’t the kind of person who just did things for others out of his own good heart. That was what everyone believed.

“I had research to do,” he deflected. “Would you rather I left things up to you to find? I seem to recall that you were never very skilled in finding and learning information. We’d be here into the next century if I waited for you,” he replied, ending with a sneer.

He was being a little too harsh, he knew it. And though he wouldn’t take his words back, he did regret it a bit. Severus had been trying not to act the way he’d used to with Potter, but old habits apparently died hard. 

Maybe that was a weak excuse. But Severus didn’t know what else he could have said, how else he could have reacted. Being offensive was his default reaction when he was unsettled, he couldn’t help it. It was his defense, against all things that threatened to make him ill at ease. And Potter’s words did do that.

“No!” Potter practically shouted, and then spoke at a normal volume, “It’s just... I didn’t expect it, but thank you. Really. I’m grateful that you’re helping me.”

It was Severus’s turn to be surprised. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, all things considered. After all, he  _ was _ helping Potter, and Severus knew that Potter wasn’t quite the ungrateful brat he’d always accused the boy of being.

But he still hadn’t been expecting it. Especially not in such a sincere and earnest tone of voice. Especially not when, as of yet, Potter’s magic was barely functioning. There really weren't any results to speak of, and Severus hadn’t been the nicest person to be around. Not many people ever opted to thank him for anything. Even now, he’d been insulting — despite that he hadn’t necessarily  _ meant  _ to, the fact remained that he  _ had _ been rude — and Potter ignored that to thank him for helping. It only served to unnerve him further. 

“...You’re welcome,” he finally responded, figuring there was nothing else he could possibly say. It simply wouldn’t for him to insult the boy again, and nor did he want to do so. 

Severus wasn’t sure what to make of the way Potter’s face lit up at the acknowledgement.  _ You’re welcome _ was probably the lamest response anyone could have come up with, it wasn’t something to be delighted about. It confused him to no end. Deciding to distract himself from dwelling on it further, he returned to the subject at hand — Potter’s magic.

“Now, then, let’s see what you’ve been practicing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope everyone is doing well :)  
> Does it seem like we’re reaching another breakthrough for Harry? Maybe, maybe not xD  
> Also why have I already written 20K with this fic? I’m wondering if I should go back to edit my first few chapters — they are from when this whole story was supposed to stop at 10K.
> 
> But anyway, thank you to everyone who reads this thing, and I hope you all have a nice day!


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